The Boots
by kelco
Summary: When Dean brings it to John's attention that Sammy needs new clothes for school, John's guilt at neglecting his boys overwhelms him. Realizing that it is Dean who needs him most, John tries to show his eldest that he matters, too.


"Dad."

John shoved the paper he'd been reading aside, in order to study the book underneath. He was leaning up against the headboard of his bed, papers and books spread out around him. Dimly aware of his eldest son in the room, he ignored him, frustration welling up within inside. Based on the research he'd just done, his entire theory, all his planning, was dead wrong.

It wasn't a succubus after all. All the time he'd put in, and it wasn't that at all. He shoved the pile of books and papers away from his lap and watched as they landed softly on the bedspread. It wasn't at all satisfying, so he grabbed up the nearest book and hurled it against the wall. It crashed with a loud slam and fell to the floor. That made him feel a little better, but not much. The research would have to start all over now, from square one.

"Dad." Dean called again, hesitantly.

John let out a sigh and looked up at his boy. At fifteen, he was lean and lanky, all arms and legs. It seemed his growth spurt had finally slowed down somewhat, but he'd yet to fill out with muscle. He was skinny, John noted, almost too skinny. He wondered, briefly, if he'd been getting enough to eat. I should probably pay more attention to that, he reminded himself, feelings of guilt surging through him. He knew that when he was gone, Dean always saw to it that his little brother, Sammy, had plenty to eat, and John oft suspected it came at Dean's own expense. He frowned slightly. That was simply not acceptable.

Realizing he had yet to answer, he said, "What, Dean?" his voice coming across with an undertone of gruffness and frustration that he hadn't meant to be directed at his boy. He tried again. Softer. "What son?"

Dean swallowed before answering, "Well, maybe this isn't the best time..." he hedged. John knew he was remembering the thrown book and he regretted his actions.

"Go ahead. I'm done for now anyway. It's not a damn succubus after all, so..." He broke off, shrugging, knowing Dean understood.

Dean finally answered, "Well, it's just that Sam needs some new clothes. His pants are too short, and his shirts all have holes in them. None of the long sleeved ones even come down to his wrists anymore. Schools' starting again soon." He paused, "Sorry, dad." Dean spread out his hands apologetically and let them drop.

John's guilt soared to a whole new level. His kid needed clothes. And school was about to start, summer was almost over. How had he not noticed that? What kind of father was he, that Dean was apologizing for his brother growing? As if he could help that.

Looking Dean over, he answered, "Looks like you could use a few things, too." Dean's jeans were long enough, but so worn that they were faded to a pale blue. Both knees were ripped from seam to seam and the ends of his pant legs hung in fringes. The tee shirt he wore looked too small; it was a shrunken one of John's; and was riddled with tiny wear holes. One toe poked out through a hole in the canvas sneakers he wore.

Dean looked down at himself critically and John knew what was coming next. "But Sammy-" he began.

John cut him off, "Sam needs some clothes, but so do you. And I don't want to hear another word about it." Scanning the room, he noticed for the first time that Sam wasn't around. "Where is your brother anyway?"

"Outside. He met a kid from across the street. I think they're playing with a rubber ball I bought for him." Dean explained.

John nodded. It was just like Dean to think of getting Sam a toy play with; John was glad, he wouldn't have thought of it himself.

"OK. We'll go tomorrow." He paused as another thought occurred to him. "Tonight, I'll give you guys haircuts. Looking pretty shaggy over there." John gestured to Dean's head, his hair hanging on his ears and across his forehead. "Unless you're going for that long look that Sam likes." He teased, already knowing the answer. Dean always liked his short.

His boy smiled at him, "No way. Girly man out there? Never?"

John smiled, too.

That night after Sammy had come in from playing, John gave them haircuts. He'd always done it that way; haircuts were too damn expensive to pay for. Dean's was short and tight, just the way he liked it; Sammy's longer, but still neat. Afterwards he talked Dean through giving his dad a trim, too. Couldn't be the only ragamuffin in the bunch, he thought. Then he sent his boys to bed, and left for the local pool hall. He needed to earn himself some clothes money for tomorrow.

The break in his research had come at the right time. His boys needed some fatherly attention.

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The next day found the Winchester men in the local thrift shop. They always went there first, to see if they could find what they needed. Afterwards, if they couldn't find what they wanted, John would buy it new.

"Okay, you guys check out the t-shirts. Pick out a few each. What sizes are you guys by now anyway?"

It was Dean who answered, of course, "Medium for me and small for Sammy."

"I want a bright blue one!" Sam declared, hands on hips. His hair stuck out funny after his haircut last night, and John wondered if he would have to cut it short like Dean's after all. Sam was not going to like that.

"Well, look around, but no promises there, bud. I'll be over here." He left them to sort through the t- shirts, while he checked out the long sleeved ones.

There was a long row of plaid button downs, just what he wanted. He liked those kind. They looked neat and tidy, and could be worn in layers on cold days. Not normally much of a shopper, John was surprised to find himself enjoying this. It felt good to have money in his pocket for once and to be spending it on his kids for something they really needed. John paged through the garments, his eye landing on a nice, thick shirt. It was solid green in color and when he picked it up, he felt the softness of the flannel. He looked at the tag. Dean's size. He held onto that one, slinging it over his arm. It was thick enough to protect his boy on a hunt as well as keep him warm. He chose several more, all plaids, and made his way over to the boys.

Sam had an armful of shirts, several of which were blue, but Dean only had one. "What's up, Dean-o? Couldn't find any in your size?"

Dean shrugged indifferently. "Nah, I don't really need that many. Spend the cash on Sam instead."

John sighed, frustrated. Had he really done that bad of a number on his firstborn? He wouldn't even spend money on something as basic as clothes, if his brother needed them instead? "Look, Dean, you need shirts, too. Either pick some out here, or we'll be getting them brand new at the next store." Dean's eyes went wide, but he knew better then to protest. He turned to the task. "And Sam, you put back half of the ones you have."

"But dad!" The whining started immediately.

"Either you do it or I will." Sam grudgingly went about the assigned task. John just shook his head at the difference in the two of them. Dean- always sacrificing himself for Sam's well being and putting himself last; and Sam–the over indulged baby of the family, good and sweet, but always wanting his own way.

Once the tees were chosen, John showed them the plaids he'd gotten. As expected, Dean loved the thick green one and John enjoyed seeing his eyes light up. Sammy was okay with the ones he'd gotten, but wanted a hooded sweatshirt, too. John hated those. To him, they were only for working out, not for school. Button downs looked nicer and the long sleeves still covered up bruises that were always acquired in their line of work. They may have been poor, but if he refused to send his boys to school if they weren't presentable. Besides, being neat and clean did not attract attention from nosy teachers and social services.

John, determined not to give in to Sam, stuck to his guns, saying no to Sam's continued requests. He tried not to lose his temper, but finally snapped, "Knock it off, Sam. I said no. Another word and you're doing laps when we get home!"

"Yes sir." Sam replied, his mouth in a tight grimace. Dean nudged his brother in a not so subtle sign to shut up. John wondered if the rest of the day would be spent putting up with a grumpy eleven year old and briefly considered giving in to keep the peace. Briefly. The thought was quickly dismissed as they moved on to the jeans.

They got lucky, in that aisle, and each boy found two pair that would fit. It was quick and easy; guys jeans were basically the same, and brand names didn't matter to any of them. John pondered the situation of coats briefly, but decided they'd have time for that later in the season.

"Shoes next guys," John announced glancing about. "There's some here, but probably not what we need." He went over anyway, the boys trailing him. After a quick glance around, he knew nothing there was any better then the ones the kids were already wearing. He led them to the register. Watching their reactions as the articles were rung up, he didn't like what he saw in Dean. Sam was content, but Dean just got more and more agitated as the items were adding up. He fidgeted from foot to foot until John finally steadied him with a hand to his shoulder. Dean looked at him like he was going to protest all the things John was buying, but a look from his dad, and he stilled instantly.

In the end, the boys each got two pairs of jeans, Sammy got four t-shirts and three buttons downs; Dean- three tees, the blue flannel and two other long sleeve ones. John was satisfied as they left the store. Now shoes and then the boys would be set. John felt guilty that he hadn't even noticed they needed new clothes until Dean to pointed it out, but it was still satisfying to be able to supply them.

At the next store, John sent Sammy to pick out a pair of sneakers. Good ones, that would last awhile, he ordered, but would not break the bank. He never got them anything but sneakers. They needed them for gym and he couldn't afford more shoes then that, they way they outgrew them.

Dean had been eyeing up leather boots lately, not that he'd ever ask for them, but John had, for once, actually noticed what his son was interested in. Today he was going to get a pair. He led an unsuspecting Dean over to the display. There were brown ones, tan ones and black ones; ones with laces, buckles or straps. Ignoring Dean's confused look, he took his time and studied each pair.

"Dad, the sneakers are over there." Dean informed him,confusion showing across his face.

John ignored him, selecting another pair for inspection. Dean fidgeted at his side, craning his neck to see Sammy. John smiled as he watched his son; he was always taking care of his brother. He deserved this. Scooping up a pair of black biker style boots with buckle on the side, he handed them to Dean.

Dean stared at them like he didn't understand. His brow furrowed inquiringly. "But the sneakers are over there..." his voice trailed off.

John couldn't suppress his grin any longer and it burst across his face. "I know where they are. We'll look there next and chose a pair. But it's time you had a sturdier shoe, for hunting and cold weather. They'll last you awhile now that you're not growing so fast. Try them on." He thrust the boots at his startled son.

Dean still made no move to take them. "But dad, two pair of shoes just for me? That's too much. We can't afford that." He shook his head, disbelief plain on his face. "Just sneakers will be fine." He subconsciously wiggled the toe that stuck out of the hole in his shoe.

John smiled again, "Dean you're getting both. Now try them on." His voice was stern, though he felt anything but that. He knew that was the only way to get through to Dean. And it worked. Dean reached out for the boots, almost reverently, and took them to a chair. He slipped off his sneakers and worked the stiff leather boots onto his feet. Once on, he rose, the smile slipping across his face without him even realizing it. Sammy had come over to watch and leaned against his dad. John slipped an arm around his younger son as they stood watching the joy on Dean's face as he paced around the store, studying his feet.

"They look good on you, Dean." Sam commented, happiness for his brother evident in his voice and a smile on his face.

John's gaze drifted from his sons feet up to his face, just as Dean's eyes rose to met his dads. The joy shone across his features and John's smile matched his son's. Dean deserved this, John thought, this and much, much more. He hoped the gesture would reach Dean's heart and show him that he was worthy. Worthy of gifts, worthy of attention, worthy of kindness. Worthy of his father's love.

John was startled when Dean's eyes filled with tears, though he managed to stop them from spilling down his cheeks. Leaving Sam behind, he made his way over to his eldest.

"Dean?"

Dean's eyes blinked rapidly, fighting back the tears. He raised his head to look at his dad. "Are you sure?" John just nodded. "Thanks dad," his boy answered, his gratitude evident to all.

"Anything for you, son, anytime. You deserve it and more." And he wrapped up his son in a hug, right there in the store in front of everyone. His heart soared when Dean returned the embrace, his sons' breath hitching in an effort to keep his composure. Tears filled John's own eyes, but he didn't care.

His boy was worth it.


End file.
